


press my buttons

by hamm3rheart



Category: Soul Eater
Genre: F/M, and c'mon its a cute idea, because he uses his job as a postman to get closer to maka, mailmain!Soul AU, short-tempered maka
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-05
Updated: 2015-05-05
Packaged: 2018-03-29 04:11:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3881794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hamm3rheart/pseuds/hamm3rheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Soul realizes - he really does have a thing for short-tempered girls.</p>
            </blockquote>





	press my buttons

Soul _hated_ when Black*Star abandoned his shift. Admittedly, he did it himself from time to time, but that was only when he had important things to do (such as last minute concerts to perform that required him to learn a month’s worth of sheet music in _a week’s time_ -but, being as though he was trying to get back on his parent’s good graces--even though he wasn’t the rightful heir to the birthright--that _bastard_ was his older brother, Wes, who’s prize just for _being born 4 years before him_ was to inherit the production company, as well as the estate they stayed on when they were kids before he got kicked out for not wanting to follow the path of a classical pianist. He still tried his very best to not only learn the pieces, but _perfect_ them - all to redeem himself in his parent’s eyes) and even in that, he only missed his shift maybe one or two weeks out of a month. Black*Star, however, missed his shift _quite_ often. So much so, that Soul often wondered how Nygus even let him keep his damn job.

He sighed as he played Mendelssohn’s Piano Concerto No.1 on his iPod and listened for all of the notes he’d been struggling with as of late, and how to somehow make his performance sound _better_ than the pianist currently playing the piece. He couldn’t dwell on it too much, due to the fact that whenever he tried, his light blue shirt stuck closer to his back and his navy blue shorts offered no ventilation of any kind, despite the fact that his legs from his knees down was uncovered. He made sure to check the forecast before leaving his house and once more on his phone before driving and both reports said the temperature was 98 degrees. In other words, _hell on Earth._

Times like this, he concluded working for UPS was no fucking joke.

Still, he begrudgingly got out of his truck and adjusted his clothes after looking over his clipboard with the list of resident’s names on them. He knew that people seeking important letters, dreading jury duty and those expecting sweepstakes--no matter how ridiculous as it sounded--were all highlighted with different colors of red, blue and green, respectively.

He sighed as he tossed his clipboard and grabbed the hefty sack of letters and a few packages and, after tossing it over his shoulder, he began his rounds.

_The sooner I get this shit over with, the better,_ he thought with a sigh, niggling notes stuck in his head and sweat trickling down his spine.

* * *

 

He’d been to this neighborhood enough times to know the people, houses and the mannerisms they kept. He knew which houses had dogs--be it big or small--or _any_ form of pets, for that matter. He knew which people were rude, obnoxious or just plain _sleazy_ \--he glared at Hiro’s house with disgust and carelessly shoved his mail into his mail slot without a second thought.

But he took great care in knowing which apartment housed the college girl with _absolutely no tits whatsoever_ but had the **best goddamn legs** he’s _ever_ seen; which said a lot, considering he slept around quite a bit.

“Slept around” being whenever he could stomach the shrill, annoying giggles, the clown-faced getup and the way they practically _bathed_ in perfume and fawned over him--

He closed his eyes at the subtle pounding in his head at the mere _thought_ of bringing someone in his house now. He treasured the peace and quiet that came with living alone, and didn’t want some high maintenance _bimbo_ ruining his tranquility.

Of course, if the girl he currently has his sights set on does that as well, then he’d just say ‘forget it’ and keep moving with his life.

He’d hate it, but when he’d look back in hindsight, he’d thank himself for not making the mistake of bringing home yet another mindless girl.

* * *

 

Soul walked down the hill to the apartment complex as he began to think about the girl with the killer eyes more intently. He knew her name was Maka Albarn and that she had a thing for wearing short skirts and combat boots (but in the summer and spring months, she wore _Converse_ high tops) and she always wore some sort of jacket that was often times two sizes too big for her.

He smirked as he recalled her excuse for wearing things like that: _“I’d rather wear something too big and have guys wonder about my body than wear things too tight and have them stare.”_

(He inwardly called her a prude and she simply turned her nose up at him and muttered something about how “ _sex isn’t all that anyways_ ,” which piqued his curiosity and made him wonder just _how_ she came up with that conclusion and, before long, he began to think about her in an entirely _different_ light.

He took several cold showers that night.)

He also knew that she owned a cat named Blair and that she lived for Romance novels, despite being a non-believer for romance in her own life. She went to Shibusen University and was one of the top students in her class. He knew she wore her hair in two perfect pigtails (with the exception of special occasions, where she wore it down – he swore his breath got caught in his throat and his heart pounded), and she seemed to always come home around 6:30 in the evening due to her part-time job at the local bookstore.

He also knew that she had a bad habit of leaving her keys in her house. This is where they were when he found her one evening; banging on her lobby door and cursing remorsefully to herself for being so careless.

Smirking and gaining the added energy he’d hoped to gain from tackling the hard hills first and the easier places--like her apartment complex, for example--last, he was able to make sure he messed with her, but delaying his route by a few minutes to ensure that she would be stuck outside of her apartment by the time he got there.

He announced his presence by putting everyone’s mail in their boxes first. Tsugumi, who adored those annoying magazines with the pink cheetah print covers and charm bracelet mail-in orders, Ox Ford who always, _always_ had to have crosswords and Sudoku, and Kim who…constantly wanted his number, but each time, he refused.

But there was always one thing he looked forward to delivering, and that was Maka’s _online-sweepstakes_ newsletters and prizes. Her name was permanently marked in green highlighter due to the fact that most of the prizes were either checks or actual necessities, like hats in the winter or a cooler to put her drinks in when the summer hit, and even things for her cat. He smirked to himself as he pictured the look on her face when she’d see the fairly large package in the bottom of his bag that had her name and address slapped on it.

But before he would give it to her, he had to mess with her a bit.

* * *

 

The first thing he noticed about her today was that she didn’t have on her large oversized jacket. _She’d have to be absolutely_ insane _to_ , he thought as he watched her out of the corner of his eye as she dialed her landlord’s number in her frustration and anger at herself for leaving her keys in the damn key bowl – _again_ – and Soul laughed silently as she growled as she failed to reach him.

“ _Fucking_ Stein...why is it whenever I goddamn need you, _you don’t answer_ -?!”

“Maybe it’s because he’s tired of you harassing him about the same damn thing all the time. I know _I_ would.” Soul said with a smirk as he put Jackie’s mail in her box casually.  Maka glared at him and his smirk grew a little.

“Go away, Soul. I’m not in the mood for your antics today.” She grumbled as she rubbed her temples to try to numb the oncoming headache she felt.

But as always, whenever Soul was around, her headaches were always terrible. She’d probably have to get her pharmacist to up her dosage on her Ibuprofen next time she goes to get Blair her cat food--

“When have you _ever_ been in the mood for my antics, Ms. Albarn?” He prompted as she saw that he’d put everyone else’s mail in their mailbox, save for _hers_. She then rolled her eyes and began to search in her bag _one last time_ to be completely certain she’d left her keys in the house and that they weren’t nestled in the bottom of her bag.

Because, yeah, _that happened a lot too._

“I’ve never been interested in _you_ or your jokes,” Maka answered with her arms elbow-deep in her bag, “but the fact that you don’t _grovel at my feet_ in order to ask me out is something I can get used to.” He snorted.

“Tch. Who _grovels_ at a girl’s feet these days? Especially ones with no tits--“

He then felt her fist connect with his face as he then landed on his ass and she stood over him with a satisfied smirk on her face.

“I’ve wanted to do that ever since I met you.” She growled smugly as he looked at her with a slight smirk. She then marched over to her mailbox to check what he’d brought for her, but noticed when she opened it that nothing was there and sighed in defeat.

“Alright. Hand it over.” She said as he stood to his feet and brushed off his uniform.

“I,” He said punctually as he brushed off some dust from his shorts. “Have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“There’s obviously _some_ mail _and_ a package in there for me--so hand it over.” She demanded as her eyes got that wicked, determined glint to them that made his _other package_ stir.

_Now’s **not** the time to be sporting a hard-on, Soul! _He mentally scolded as he sighed and dug into his bag to pull out the large rectangular box. After she took it and sat down on the stoop outside of the lobby, she then dug into the bottom of her shoe and pulled out a switchblade to open the box (he was shocked to find out she even had something like that, but then again, she didn’t live in the safest of neighborhoods…), and upon opening said box and removing the packing peanuts, she gasped as she withdrew a _NikonD7000 _ with a small tripod. Her eyes welled up with happy tears as she turned the camera on and was in awe at the sharp amount of focus and precision each shot her new camera had taken.

“I can finally take those photography classes and be a famous photographer like my mom…maybe even _better_.” She murmured, mostly to herself, as she admired the camera in her hands. When she finally looked up at Soul, he saw that she got this… _insanely_ happy look in her eyes that was a mixture of gratitude, joy and something else he couldn’t place.

“I’m sure you’d do great with it. I hope to see your pictures in art galleries and in advertisements.” He breezed politely (possibly literally? Who knows—surely _he_ doesn’t) as he went into his bag for the last time and handed her the rest of her mail. As she sifted through it with the happiness in her eyes long after they broke eye contact, it was _then_ Soul realized that maybe he had a thing for short-tempered girls.

Or maybe it was just her.

 


End file.
